


Made of Steel

by starfishing



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-13
Updated: 2007-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfishing/pseuds/starfishing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanada can't imagine how afraid he'd be in Yukimura's place; how many times he would have given up. Yukimura is the strongest person he has ever known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made of Steel

Sanada feels sick to his stomach.

Here is the boy he's looked up to and followed for the last two years, the strongest boy he knows and the person he respects most in the world, trapped in a quandary of uncertainty and weakness, trembling with fatigue and unshed tears.

"I can't _do_ this," he says, and his voice cracks with the emphasis. "This is painful and humiliating and I want to go _home_ , Gen'ichirou; I don't want to do this."

The words twist in the air, alive with the agony behind them. Sanada swallows. Yukimura blindsided him. He kept up his brave front, kept his serene smile and his steely gaze and Sanada didn't see this coming until it happened, and now Yukimura's almost crying, barely standing; staring beseechingly up at him as if Sanada can pick him up and carry him away from here.

He could, Sanada thinks faintly. It would be nothing to lift him up now, even as tall as Yukimura's gotten. He's lost too much weight and too much spirit and he looks so frail. This sickness and all that's come with it, they've sucked the life from him. Yukimura's hair is lank and dull, his skin is sallow, his eyes are dark and haunted. Every day it's harder to look at him, but Sanada never stops.

He's here every afternoon, despite his family's protests, the doctors' and Yukimura's. No matter the weather, regardless of whether Yukimura's even awake, Sanada's here — at his bedside, in the corridor, as close as he's allowed. If he could, he would fight this battle in Yukimura's place.

But he can't, so he does the next best thing, and he's beside Yukimura every single step of the way. Even now that the worst of it is over, Sanada still comes religiously, one day after the next. He helps Yukimura when he'll let him; he's learning to walk all over again and it's degrading and pathetic, and he doesn't want anyone to see him this way, especially Sanada.

Sanada's never said it, but if this is Yukimura's worst — fighting to regain his freedom, struggling through every storm blown his way, defeating every opponent and overcoming any obstacle, no matter how terrifying or painful — then it's ten times Sanada's best. Sanada can't imagine how afraid he'd be in Yukimura's place; how many times he would have given up. Yukimura is the strongest person he has ever known.

And so now, with Yukimura standing on the edge of something too deep and frightening to even think about, ready to let go and give up, to throw away all of the effort he's made until now and just _stop_ , Sanada knows that he has to give him all the support he possibly can, and he'll do so in the only way he knows how.

The pain doesn't reach him until a few moments after Yukimura hits the ground, and then the back of Sanada's hand starts to sting. Yukimura turns his face up to stare at him, tears stillborn and freefalling down his cheeks.

"Gen'ichirou," he whispers, the words nearly inaudible.

"The captain I followed to Nationals would never say that," Sanada answers. He is proud that his voice doesn't shake. "Stand up, Yukimura."

A resounding silence follows, Sanada holding his breath, and the sound that finally breaks it is Yukimura's sharp exhale, just before he pushes himself up from the ground. Sanada doesn't move, doesn't extend a hand to help his friend as he stumbles to his feet, even unsteadier than before. When their eyes meet, Sanada breathes again, relief washing over him in waves strong enough to knock him over.

Yukimura wipes his eyes, wincing as he touches his tender right cheek, and lifts his chin to stare Sanada down. There's an anger there, an indignant sort of fury that makes Sanada's heart skip a beat. It's Yukimura.

"Don't _ever_ hit me again." His voice is choked but resolute.

Sanada inclines his head as well, meeting Yukimura's glare unblinkingly. "Don't ever lose again."


End file.
